


The Corpse That Wasn't There

by PhryneFicathon, propangel



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, Established Relationship, F/M, Murder and Mayhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-06 15:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17348126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/pseuds/propangel
Summary: A letter dropped on the street leads to a fascinating mystery





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaandBanjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/gifts).



> Inspired by the prompt: "Miss Fisher finds a body. At some point during her investigation, the ‘body’ wakes up and stumbles away”  
> Thank you to @Inzannatea and @oracleofdoom for being such wonderful editors/betas

Dot and Alice were downtown shopping for Alice’s upcoming wedding and heading to the tram. The streets were crowded, not unusual during the lunch hour, and as they took their last corner, a man hurrying from the opposite direction ran into them.

“Oh. Ah.” The ladies muttered.

The man tipped his hat and kept walking. “Excuse me I'm in a hurry.”

“Oi,” Alice screeched, “why don't you watch where you're goin' you...? I tell you Dot, sometimes I think they need traffic lights on the sidewalk, too. You okay?”

“Yes. Except for my handbag.” Dot replied as she started looking for it.

“Oh, wait, here it is on the sidewalk. Hey, this yours too?”

“What?”

“This letter.”

“No, it's not mine. It looks like it’s already been mailed doesn't it?”

Alice looked closer at the post she held in her hand. “Yes. Mailed and unsealed. Hmm…”

“Uh-uh, Alice, never mind your reporter instincts. It's not right to look at other people's mail.”

Alice had gone to work for Miss Charlesworth at Women’s Choice only a few months ago, but her curious nature was proving to be quite an asset.

“Gee, Dot, give me some credit here. I wasn't going to open it. Well, what do we do with it? Throw it away?”

“It may be important.”

“Mr. Ernest James. That’s probably the bloke who bumped into you. Well, why should we bother with it?”

“Give it to me, Alice. I'll ring him when I get back to Miss Fisher’s. Oh, look at the time, we'd better hurry.”

\---------------------------------------------------

“Hello, Dot.” Phryne greeted her companion who looked rather distracted as she walked into the house.

“Oh, good afternoon, Miss.”

“Anything important?”

“No, it's been pretty quiet all morning. Here's your post.” Dot replied as she handed Phryne the stack of letters she had taken from the box on her walk to the door.

“Thank you, Dot. Well, that's...wait, this one, this isn't mine, Dot.” Phryne eyed the opened letter curiously as she met Dot’s inquisitive eyes.

“Oh, that's a letter that someone dropped on the street. I was going to try and ring him. Do you mind if I try now?”

“No. No, go right ahead. I'll glance at my post.” Phryne took a step into the parlor to give Dot some privacy.

“Hello, operator? Yes, I am trying to reach an Ernest James in Elwood. It's.... yes, that's right.”

“Oh. Here's a letter from Jane,” Phryne opened the letter and started to read, “She was in Marseille and should be home in time for the wedding.”

“Miss, that’s only a few weeks away.” Dot replied, somewhat shocked.

“It will be so nice to have her home again.”

“Yes, it will. I have missed her so,” Dot mused before turning her attention back to the phone. “Yes, operator...Oh. Well, thank you. Maybe he does work in a factory or at the docks. Thank you. No, no, I won't bother. Goodbye.”

Dot hung up the phone and turned to Phryne, “Well, there was no answer.”

“Why not just put it in an envelope and send it to him?”

“I guess that might be the easiest thing. “

“Wait a minute. Is this the address?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Phryne chuckled, “It’s on the way to the garage to pick up the Hispano. I’ll tell you what, Dot… I’ll have Bert swing me by there on the way and I’ll drop it off myself. How's that?”

“Oh would you please, Miss?”

“I’d be happy to, Dot.”

Dot smiled at her, “Thank you, Miss. Thank you so much.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bert pulled up in front of the address Miss Fisher had given him, and turned to her to ask, “Are you sure this is it?”

“This is the address on the envelope.” She handed Bert the envelope.

“I’ll be right back,” he called as he started walking up the sidewalk to the house.

Bert had no sooner left the cab, than he was rushing back and trying to get Phryne’s attention.

“Miss! Miss!” Bert called excitedly.

“Well, that didn't take you long, you...wait… Bert, you still have the letter.”

“Yar, I saw something through the window, Miss. You need to see this.”

“What's that?”

“You need to see this. Please.” Bert pleaded.

“All right, Bert. I will come look.”

They both walked up the sidewalk to the house this time, and looked in the windows.

“Do you see what I see?” Bert inquired.

“Bert, let’s try the door.”

Bert rattled the doorknob, “It's unlocked, Miss.”

“Come on. Watch out.” Phryne opened the door and started to step inside. “Easy now, Bert.”

In the front room of the house was the body of a man.

“Oi, what do you think. Is he dead?”

“Oh, it's obvious. All we needed was one look. Where's the phone?”

“Over there on the table.”

Phryne walked over to the phone and rattled the receiver.

“What’s the matter?” Bert asked, looking

“The line is dead, Bert.” Phryne rattled the phone one more time before hanging up the receiver. “That’s odd.” Phryne started looking along the wire from the phone. She held up the frayed end of the wire she found behind the table. “Ha! I thought so. Bert, this wire has been cut.”

“Oi. That’s not good.”

“I'll get to the nearest phone and call City South. You stay here, Bert.”

Phryne walked out the front door and started to head to a neighbor, hoping they had a phone she could use to call Jack.

Bert stood there in the room for a moment or two before breaking the silence. “Too bad for him.” He muttered under his breath as he walked around the room. His ears perked up as he thought he heard a door open.

“Miss Fisher? Hello?” Bert called into the room as he heard footsteps headed his way.

“Miss?”

“Get him!” A raspy voice exclaimed about the time a truncheon made contact with Bert’s head, knocking him cold.

“Now get busy!” the voice ordered his cohorts.

\---------------------------------------------------

Bert finally stirred on the floor as the constables searched the house. Phryne had been keeping a close eye on him, as she needed to know what he had seen.

“Bert? Bert, you're all right.” Phryne sighed.

“Oi. Did you get the registration of the truck that hit me?”

Phryne chuckled, “Come on, you’ll be all right.”

Bert groaned groggily.

“That’s it. Come on now.” Phryne coaxed.

Bert shook his head a little. “What happened?”

“That's what I want to know. We found you in the hall when we got here. You've got a bump on the top of your head like an egg. Looks like a truncheon. Did you see who it was?”

“No, I didn’t see.”

“What happened?”

“I was waiting here like you asked and I heard a door close. I thought it might be you, and I called out...” Bert ran a tentative hand over the back of his head, surveying the damage. “Wait. I hear voices!”

“What, Bert?”

“Voices in the room. Who’s here?”

“It’s just the police, Bert. They're checking on the body. Now, come on, you came out this door...and then what?”

“I heard someone close say, ‘Get him!’ I tried to see who it was, but something hit me from behind. That's all. That's all... except...where is the letter?”

“The letter we came here to deliver? Well, you had it.”

“I don’t have it anymore. It’s gone.”

“So, that's what they wanted.” Phryne said to no one in particular as Jack stepped into the room.

“Say, Miss Fisher?”

“Yes, what is it, Inspector?”

“What kind of joke are you trying to play here?”

“Joke?” Bert grumbled.

“Murder's no joke, Jack.”

“I am aware of that. What was the idea calling up the station and having all this…“ Jack gestured around him as he was interrupted by a man walking in the front door looking none too happy.

“Excuse me. What do you mean…what is going, what are you people doing in my house? What are those cars outside the door?”

Phryne took a step forward and addressed the man, “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who am I? I...I live here. My name is Ernest James. What does this mean? I come home...”

“Now just a moment, Mr. James. My name is Phryne Fisher, and I’m a private detective. Tell me, what's a dead man doing in your living room?”

“What kind of privacy can a pers...What's that? A dead ...man in...MY living room?”

“Yes. Murdered.”

“Murdered?” Mr. James asked incredulously. “But I....”

“Now hold on. Wait a minute. One thing at a time.” Jack turned to look at Miss Fisher, “Phryne, if you're playing a joke you're carrying it too far.”

“Whatever are you talking about, Inspector?”

“I'll tell you what I'm talking about! Take a look in that room. There's no murdered man. There's nobody at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

“That's right Dot. I hadn't noticed myself. When I got back there, Bert was lying in the hall. I didn't go into the living room at all. The police went in.” Phryne sat at the kitchen table at Wardlow, nursing a cup of tea.

“That is the strangest thing I ever heard, Miss.”

“The body was gone. No trace of it. If it hadn't been for the cut telephone wire, I might have believed it was a dream.”

“Then I guess you and Bert both had the same dream.” Dot tried to suppress a giggle, but was unsuccessful. Phryne started laughing too as Dot added, “What is the Inspector going to do, take you to the psychiatrist?”

Phryne sighed in mock indignation, “Not quite. After all, he realizes I wouldn't phone about nothing. I rather think they have decided that Bert and I walked in on a practical joke.”

“Someone was just playing dead?” Dot asked incredulously.

“That's it.”

“And got up and beat it after Bert left the room, I suppose. And what about using the truncheon on Bert? Was that to make the joke more practical?”

“Well, they haven't figured that one out yet.”

“Oh, good grief. All this because you delivered a lost letter.”

“Say, that reminds me - the letter was gone, too. Bert had it when he...” Phryne started as the back door opened and Alice walked in.

“Hello Miss Fisher. Hello Dotty.”

Dot smiled at her friend, “Hello, Alice.”

Phryne looked over at Alice standing by the table. “Well, Alice?”

“I drew a blank, Miss.”

Phryne sighed, “You stayed with the police, didn't you?”

“Sure. And like you said, I hung right on their shoulders while they checked up on this Ernest James guy. The one who owned the house.”

“It's on the level? It is his house?”

“He's on the level all the way. His name is Ernest James, he does own the house, and he's even got fingerprint proof of identification.”

Dot interjected, “Fingerprints, Miss Phryne, a criminal record!”

“Don’t jump the gun, Dotty.” Alice interjected. “This guy worked for the government during the Great War. That's how he had fingerprints.”

“Oh.” Dot replied.

“‘Simon Pure,’ huh?” Phryne huffed.

“As the driven snow,” Alice chuckled. “I don’t know, Miss, maybe you and Bert walked in on a gang initiation or something.”

“Seems so,” Phryne paused for a moment. “Somehow I was sure that when the police investigated Ernest James they'd run into something. Alice, you saw Mr. James?”

“Yes.”

“Did he look like the man that bumped into you and Dot on the street?”

Alice thought about it for a moment. “I don't know. I didn't get a close look that time. I asked him about a letter and he said yes, he'd lost one, but it wasn't important.”

“Well, looks like the end of what might have been a good case. I'll see you later Dot.” Phryne went to grab her coat and hat off the tree in the hall as Dot scurried after her.

“But Miss Phryne, you just arrived.”

“And now I'm leaving. I need to talk to Bert. I'll tell you something else. Mr. James and the man I saw lying on the floor looked almost like twins. See you later.”

“Holy mackerel. Maybe she is crazy, Dotty?” Alice remarked as she also got ready to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Phryne caught up with Bert at The Stump, his favorite watering hole, hoping to get more information from him about what had happened in that house.

“I thought about it all day. If it weren’t for the bump on my head, I would be sure.”

“You and I are the only ones who are positive, Bert. And with that letter missing...” Phryne trailed off.

“Hmmm.”

“There’s something strange going on here, Bert. I’m just sure of it. We've been wrong before. We may be wrong again. But at least we're going to find out.”

“Yar. Let’s go.”

“There’s no use sitting around and talking about it. We need to investigate! The Hispano is just outside, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Bert asked, already knowing the answer.

“Same place, Bert. Mr. James's home.”

Phryne stopped the car in an alley, while Bert looked around to get his bearings.

“Where is this?” Bert wondered.

“James's house is down at the far end of the block. We can leave the Hispano here in the alley.”

Bert and Phryne got out of the car and started walking through the alley.

“Here’s the street, Bert. It's good and dark we won't be... Wait. Bert? Did you see that?”

“Yar, Miss. Someone just went in James’ front door.”

“It looked like Alice.” Phryne sighed. “I might have known. Alice is a swell reporter. She always keeps digging.”

“But in this case, that might not be so good for us.”

“Ah, it might turn out all right, Bert. In fact, it might be very helpful. Come on, we'll get into that house quietly. We'll be there when Alice leaves. We might get something.”

Phryne and Bert started making their way toward Ernest James’ house, as Alice was talking to Mr. James in his living room.

“No, there isn't anything special I wanted to see you about, Mr. James. But I just can't help feeling that Miss Fisher did run into something. She's a level-headed woman.”

“Yes I understand. I have read about her work with the police. She is very smart.”

“She just stopped off to do a favor and return that letter to you.”

“What?”

“The one you dropped when we bumped, remember?”

“Oh, yes, but it wasn't important. Please, why don't you forget the whole thing?”

Alice chuckled, “Oh, you know us reporters.”

“Maybe there was somebody here, I don't know. Maybe it was a practical joke. But whatever it was or wasn't, it's over and done with.”

“Yes it is. Say, you've got your letter haven't you?”

“No, I haven't got it.”

“Oh, yes, yes, that's right. Well, good night.”

“Here, let me show you to the door, Miss.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that, Mr. James.”

“The door squeaks sometimes.”

“Oh, I see.” Alice muttered as she followed him to the front door..

While Alice and Mr. James were talking, Phryne and Bert slipped in the back door. As Mr. James walked Alice out, Phryne shooed Bert into the living room.

“Go to the door, Bert.” Phryne whispered.

“But we haven’t learned anything yet.”

Footsteps indicated Mr. James returning to the living room, and Phryne and Bert exchanged a look just before ducking behind the drapes.

James made his way to the (now fixed) phone in the living room and placed a call.

“Hello? James here. A reporter was here. I'm worried. But I…” James paused, “All right, if you say so. Yes? Yes, I understand. Yes. Nothing to worry about.” James took a deep breath, “The what? All right, I'll destroy the letter at once. Goodbye.”

James hung up the phone as Phryne walked into the living room and demanded, “Mr. James hand over that letter.”

“What?!”

“Look out! He has gun!” Bert screeched as a gunshot rang out.


	5. Chapter 5

In a house on the other side of the city, a man named Martin hung up the phone and crossed to the other room.

“Who vas zat on the phone, Martin?” Pearce, a Russian henchman, asked.

“It was James.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. A reporter was nosin' around again. I told him to ferget it. Nothin's gonna go wrong.”

“He’s nervous, yes?”

“Well, you can't blame him; it was pretty close.”

Pearce chuckles. “Yes. It's a lucky sing zat fella he slugged had za letter. I lifted it right from his hand.”

“Yes. I told James to burn it. We read it already.”

“Yes. Say, vee got to do somesing about... zu know... zat man.”

“Yes. Yes we do.”

“Maybe za Yarra…”

“Shut up, will ya. I'm thinkin.”

Martin crossed the room to pick up the phone and make a call.

“Vhere now?”

“I want to double check. I'm gonna call James and make sure he burned that letter.” Martin pulled the phone away from his face and made eye contact with Pearce. “It's been 30 minutes, he's had plenty of time.”

“Zat letter vould mean our finish if it got in the wrong hands.”

“Yes it would,” Martin paused while he listened to the ringing on the line. “Huh. Funny. No answer. I wonder what happened.”

“Still no answer? How many times did zu let it ring?”

“I don’t know. At least ten.”

“Maybe he vent out.”

“Sure he went out! But why? It's almost midnight. He said nothin' to me on the phone about...” Martin trailed off as the door buzzed.

“Hey!” Pearce exclaimed.

“Yeah, come on.” Martin replied as he and Pearce walked to the door and opened it to find a very flustered Ernest James. 

“So, you came here?” Martin inquired as he looked James up and down.

“Y…yes.” James was pale and looked like he was about to be sick.

“So where ya been? I been callin' ya?”

“I…I didn't burn the letter, Martin, and there's somebody who knows about it.”

Pearce jumped in, “Now, vat's eating zu?”

“Come in here, James. It's dark out there, come on in.”

James stepped inside the house, and stood almost stone-faced in front of Pearce and Martin, unsure what to say.

“All right, now let's have it. What happened to the letter and what do you mean somebody knows about it?” Martin raged, red faced and spitting as he shouted.

Phryne stepped out of the shadows then and spoke. “I can tell you, Martin.”

“Who are you?” Martin asked.

“Zat’s za lady detective vat has been in za paper. Get her!” Pearce exclaimed.

There was a short struggle and a gun dropped to the floor. Miss Fisher stepped forward with her golden pistol leveled at the men, finger at the ready.

“Leave it there! Reach for that gun and I pull this trigger.”

“Hey, what's this all about? James, you pullin' a fast one?”

“Don't blame him. He shot at me. Just his tough luck that he missed, that's all. Now, how much is this letter worth, Martin?”

“Nothin,' why?”

“And what happened to the man that was killed in James's house?”

“Vhat about za man?” Pearce spat out.

“Button your lip, Pearce!”

“Don't kid me, Martin. You covered up pretty fast, but I've got ways of finding things out.” Phryne smirked, “Who was the dead man?”

“I don’t know who you’re referring to.” Martin tried unsuccessfully to look innocent.

“Was he somebody who knew your set up? Or maybe this James is a fake. Maybe the dead man was the real James.” Phryne continued.

“You think you're pretty smart, don't cha?”

“The police seem to think so.”

“Don't give me that. You, you wouldn't go to the police.”

“Want to try me? If you won’t talk, maybe I can get it from your stooge here. Come on, James.”

“But I don't...” James hesitated.

“Come along now. We'll let Martin think about it.”

“Stay here, James!” Martin demanded.

“He's coming with me!” Phryne countered.

“Oh, no he's not! I don't think you can handle him the right way. Now me and Pearce can do that.” Martin looked at Pearce before roaring, “Now get that gun!”

Pearce struggled to retrieve the gun, shouting at Martin to move. “Stand zu von side I can't shoot!”

Phryne moved away from the melee. “You won't get a chance!”

“Get her, Pearce!”

Just as Pearce was about to level his gun on Phryne, Bert came up behind the two men and banged their heads together. As their bodies slumped to the floor, James looked over toward them and muttered something under his breath.

“Come along, James. We need to get out of here.” They walked out the front door of the house before Phryne turned to look back at James’ stunned expression. “And close your mouth - you look like a fish.”

The night sounded around them as they ran down the sidewalk from the house.

“Hold it! What's back there?” Phryne inquired, sotto voce.

“A garage,” James replied, barely whispering.

“All right. You go first. We'll take the driveway.”

As they made their way to the driveway, Bert decided it was time to share his findings with Miss Fisher.

“Miss?” Bert whispered.

“Yes, Bert?”

“I found out something...”

“Just a moment,” Phryne paused on the sidewalk and looked toward James. “James?”

“Y-yes?”

“Walk up to the garage. Stand there with your back to us. And remember, you make a perfect target against that white background. So don't try anything.” James nodded and walked to the garage as instructed before Phryne turned to Bert and whispered, “Well, what is it?”

“I looked in the garage before I came into the house.”

“And?”

“I looked in the back. There's a big heavy trunk. You were right.”

“I was? Fine, fine, that's all I want to know. Now, we'll leave a note for Martin and Pearce. We'll see that James gets back to his home and keeps his mouth shut until tomorrow night.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Inside the house, Martin and Pearce were starting to wake up from their earlier encounter with Phryne and Bert.

“Pearce. Pearce, wake up. Come on, snap out of it.” Martin commanded as he slapped Pearce on the face. “Come on, come on.”

Pearce came to, groggy from the ordeal. “Huh? Vhere's my gun? Vhere's my gun?” He looked around a moment and saw Martin staring at him. “Oh, it zu. Is she gone?”

“Yes. Her and James both. I found this.” He lifted a letter off the floor, paper rustling as he handed it to Pearce to read.

"’I'll give zu von more chance to talk money. Don't try anysing till I call. Zu vill be vatched.’"

Martin scowled. “I guess she means business.”

“Apparently so. Vat about za garage?”

“Uh, we better do like she says, Pearce. We just sit tight and wait.”


	6. Chapter 6

Alice rushed to the back door of Wardlow and knocked impatiently. Dot opened the door to her friend, who rushed in like the wind.

“Where is Miss Fisher, Dotty? I need to see her.”

“What is it, Alice?”

“Some guy called and said if I wanted a real story I should go see James again.”

“Again?”

“Yes. Tonight around midnight. And I don't even know who called!”

“Oh my. We need to let Miss Phryne know right away.”

As the conversation was taking place between Alice and Dot in the kitchen, Phryne was on the phone in the hall having a conversation to bring this whole situation to a head sooner than later.

“Hello? Is that you, Martin? I saw you last night, remember?” There was a pause as she waited for a response. “That's right.” She tapped her fingers lightly on the table. “Sure stick around. I'll see you again. Say around nine or nine thirty? And no tricks this time!”

Just as Phryne hung up the phone, Dot and Alice came into the hallway, startling her. Even though she knew Alice was a small part of this investigation, she didn’t want either of the younger women any more involved than they needed to be. It was better they not know what she was up to.

“Dot. Alice. How are you today?”

“Just fine, Miss. I was just telling Dotty here about a call I got this morning. It was from a man telling me to see James again tonight.”

“Tonight?” Phryne questioned, trying to seem surprised.

“Yes. Tonight. I don’t know who it was, or any of the other details, but I can’t help but think it has something to do with that letter Dot and I found.”

“You might be right, Alice.” Phryne admitted. “I hope you aren’t planning to go alone?”

“No, Miss. I won’t. I know exactly who to bring along.” Alice agreed.

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to take care of.” Phryne walked to the staircase and made her way up to her boudoir to plan her next move, leaving Dot and Alice staring at each other in confusion.

\---------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, Martin and Pearce were waiting at their house for Phryne to make her appearance as promised. The clock had just chimed nine o’ clock, and the two crims were getting antsy.

“I've been vatching from za vindows. I haven't seen a sing.” Pearce grumbled.

“Eh, she'll be around - she said so.”

“Vat are zu going to do?”

“I don't know. I'll get the money for her...”

“She's pretty tough.”

“Yeah, we'll see what happens.”

“I vish vee'd taken care of zat... you know ...in za trunk in za garage.”

“And have that lady detective find out!” Martin barked.

“Maybe she already knows.”

“Maybe. But I'll tell you one thing we gotta do...”

“Vou mean James?”

“Yes. He's scared silly. He's already talked to that lady detective. How much we don't know. But he might talk to the police if the pressure gets strong enough. We gotta take care of him.”

“And vee gotta do it soon. Vee can't go...” Pearce began as the door buzzer sounded and both men jumped. “Vat's za back door! Za detective?”

“Who else?” Martin replied as he made his way to the door. “Keep your gun outta sight, Pearce.”

“Don't vorry. I don't take chances wis zat lady.” Pearce paused, looking at Martin inquisitively. “Vat are zu vaiting for? Open za Door.”

“Look at the glass, Pearce.” Martin pointed at the window.

“Itza shadow.”

“No. Looks as if she's leanin' right against...”

Pearce interrupted, “No. Zu can't tell, it's zat glass zu can't see through.”

“There's somethin' peculiar. Ah, well.”

Martin opened the door, and a body fell to the floor.

“Look out! Martin, it's za body from za trunk in za garage propped up against za door!”

“Well, who put it there? How did...?”

“I did, Martin!” Phryne snapped.

“It’s her!” Pearce exclaimed.

“You know about it!” Martin blurted.

“I want to know a lot more,” Phryne began. “This man's dressed something like James. He looks like James.” Gesturing to the dead body, she continued, “Who was he? What was his name?”

“Forget it. This doesn't concern you.” Martin muttered.

“When I'm mixed up in something I want to know all about it. Now come on, who was he?”

Martin hesitated for a moment. “He's...James.”

“James? Oh, I get it - you mean the real James?”

“Yes. The real James.”

“And your friend, who calls himself Ernest James?”

“He’s….” Martin began before Phryne cut him off.

“Never mind, I can figure it out. He took this man's place didn't he? Took over his home. This man was kept a prisoner in his own house, isn't that right?”

“Yes, that’s it.” Martin looked at her and sighed.

“And when my companion and I told the police we found a dead man there, this was the man we saw.”

“Exactly. That was while we were out of the house getting' the car. And when we got back we slugged the man we found there and...”

Phryne jumped in then to finish his sentence, “...took the body out fast. What was the reason for all that, Martin?”

“I didn’t want James spoiling our plan. He was threatening to go to the police.”

“Smuggling?”

“Somethin' like that.”

“Something went wrong and you had to kill him.” Phryne added.

“A letter came with a coded message. Somehow the real James got hold of it. He got out of the house and was on his way to the police. He saw us trailin' him and got scared. He dropped the letter.”

At this point, Pearce decided to add his two cents to the conversation, “Vee caught up vis him a couple of blocks furzer on and took him back to za house.”

“So that's why the letter was important?” Phryne probed.

“Yes. Look Miss Fisher, there's two things we gotta do - we need that letter and we gotta take care of this body.”

“It'll cost you.”

“Here, here,” Martin started to hand her a wad of money. “Well, I’ll give ya…”

“I'll take it all. Thanks. What about your partner?”

“James?”

“We can call him that for convenience. He's nervous you might spill everything.”

“Certainly! Vee got to get rid of him...” Pearce shrieked.

“Shut up, Pearce! I was, ah, workin' on that.” Martin paused to take a breath before continuing. “I, ah, haven't got any ideas.”

“I have an idea, Martin. I might as well earn this money, and it's a good idea. How about making it look like murder and suicide?”

“Murder?” Martin stammered.

“Yes, with your friend there as the murderer who commits suicide.” Martin looked at her in shock, before she finished, “I'll explain it later.”

“When?” Martin asked, still shocked by the idea.

“When we get to James' house, of course. Now suppose you take this man over there in your car. And no tricks! I'll be driving right behind you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bert was waiting in the Hispano as Phryne walked up and opened the door.

“Ready, Bert?”

“Yes. To James’ house?”

“Yes, Bert. But don’t follow them. Let’s turn into the alley again. We know they will stop at the house.”

Bert started the car and drove to the alley they had parked in the night before. As they pulled to a stop, Phryne instructed Bert on the next part of the plan, “Now come on, we'll go into that house the back way. And be very careful, Alice ought to prowling around nearby.”

As Alice and Dot turned the corner toward James’ house, Bert and Phryne were making their way to the back door of the house. Dot stopped short on the sidewalk, motioning toward the house.

“Alice, isn't that James' house?”

“Yeah, Dotty. It's too early for me to make my call.” Alice paused to look at her watch. “It's, oh...”

“Look Alice! There are two men going toward the front door. And they're carrying another man.”

“Either that guy had one drink too many or...Holy Mackerel! Wait here, Dotty!”

Alice started toward the house as Dot called her back, “Alice! Wait! Where you going?”

“I'll be right back! I'm going to look in a window!”

Alice disappeared in the darkness surrounding the house, leaving Dot standing there worrying her hands on her handbag. After a few minutes, Alice came dashing down the sidewalk toward Dot. Dot let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, relieved to see her friend still in one piece.

“Dotty, Dotty!” Alice sang out.

“What is it? What'd you see?”

“They're inside now. That man they were carrying is dead. He's on the living room floor. And Miss Fisher's there too!”

“Oh, no!” Dot cried as she placed her hand over her mouth.

“I'll keep watching. You get to a phone and get the police here as fast as you can!”

Dot scurried off in search of a phone while Alice made her way back to the window she had been watching from. It allowed a good vantage point to what was going on, but also provided enough cover so she wouldn’t be spotted.

Inside, she could hear the conversation taking place amongst everyone.

“I don't understand. I don't understand why you brought him back here. I don't see why...” James shook his head in exasperation, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Let me clear it up for you, James,” Phryne started as she motioned toward Pearce. “Give me your gun, Pearce. And wipe the prints off first.”

“Here zu are.” Pearce handed Phryne the gun and took a step back.

“Thank you. James, this is the gun Pearce used to kill that man. The plan is to use this gun on you then leave it in your hands.”

“No!” James shouted.

“Yes! It'll appear that you murdered that man and then committed suicide.”

“No, no! Martin, don't let her...”

“Shut up James! That’s the way we want it. That makes us safe, get it. Then Miss Fisher gives us that letter, we burn it, and…” Martin was interrupted by the sound of police sirens and voices coming up the walk, “Hey, what's that?”

“Police cars. Zey’re outside!” Pearce screeched.

“Police! Miss Fisher, hurry up! Shoot him! Shoot him!” Martin advanced toward Phryne, reaching for the gun.

James stood there frozen, as Pearce and Martin both struggled with Phryne to get the gun. She managed to make short work of Pearce, kicking him in the shin, as Bert threw Martin to the floor and restrained him.

They could hear the voices of the police just outside the door as someone tried the door and found it locked.

“Break down that door, constables!” Jack commanded.

The splintering of the door could be heard down the block as the police rushed in ready to deal with the situation. Jack walked in behind the constables, surprised to see Bert there with Miss Fisher.

“Your timing is impeccable, Inspector. I am glad you got my message. Bert and I just subdued the suspects.”

Jack nodded in her direction as his constables took control of the men being held captive.

“And this man, Miss Fisher?” Jack asked, indicating the phony Ernest James, still frozen in place by fear.

“Ah, yes. I still don’t know his real name, but he will tell you everything about Martin and Pearce here. How they killed the real Ernest James and why.”

“Very good then. Constables, take these men back to the station for questioning.” Then Jack pointed at the phony Mr. James before continuing, “ALL of them.”

One of the constables walked up to the phony James, grabbing his arm and walking him out the front door. Phryne breathed a sigh of relief, as she walked over to Jack.

“Here, Jack. I believe this is evidence.” Phryne handed him the wad of money that Martin had given her earlier.

“Do I even want to know how you came into possession of this money?”

“Probably best you don’t.” Phryne locked eyes with Jack for a moment. She knew she would have to give her statement sooner or later, but she wasn’t sure he would want to hear what she had done.

Jack raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by her answer. That woman! She was going to be the death of him. He sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to not let his feelings get the better of him.

“I really wish you would learn to trust my instincts, Jack. They haven’t been wrong yet.” She took a step toward him and smoothed her hands down his lapels. “I’ll be waiting up for you.”

Jack glanced around, making sure there wasn’t anyone watching, before he leaned in to give Phryne a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks to you, I’ll be lucky to make it for breakfast.” 

Phryne smiled as she started toward the door. “Hmmm,” she hummed. “My favorite meal of the day, especially when you’re on the menu.” 

Jack glanced down at his notepad, trying to hide his smile, and shook his head. He looked up just in time to catch Phryne stop in the doorway to blow him a kiss.

He met her eyes and smiled before turning back to the crime scene. The sooner he finished there, the sooner he could be home. With her. Which was where he’d rather be anyway. 


End file.
